


Vibing in the Tub

by AllegedlyAlan



Category: Jreg, The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Alcohol, Drug Use, Other, Parties, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26681494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegedlyAlan/pseuds/AllegedlyAlan
Summary: The party was terrible until AnCap found someone cool vibing in the bathtub.(look I can't title or summarize stuff, I'm sorry)
Relationships: AnCap/Anarkiddy, Ancom/Ancap, Lib Unity, Libunity
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	Vibing in the Tub

**Author's Note:**

> 1) You know the drill at this point, don't you:  
>  Bernie Chomsky - AnCom  
>  Warren (i didn't come up with a surname yet oops) - AnCap
> 
> (Look, I googled "rich people" and soome Warren Buffett guy came up and I thought his name sounded rich, ok)
> 
> 2) I am starting to like AnCap, am I turning into a sixteen year-old boy who has an Elon Musk shrine? D:

,Why the fuck does this house have only three bathrooms and so many stairs', Warren thought as he sprinted to the second floor. 

His stomach did a few flips and he had to use all of his will (and dignity) not to throw up right there on the stairs. He gripped the railing and forced himself upwards. 

His parents left the house for the weekend, and of course Warren’s older brother had to have a party, like the highschool jock walking stereotype he was. He invited all his friends and a bunch of people he didn’t even know all that well. A few cute girls and a lot of slightly intimidating football players. They were American teenagers, what else did you expect?

Warren really thought he’ll be fine if he just stayed in his room, playing CoD or programming some shitty rpg, but no. He got hungry and what began as a quick mission to just sneak some snacks to his room ended up as joining a drinking game his brother’s friends were playing. 

Could he consider it peer pressure? Maybe. Though they weren’t really his peers. He was only sixteen and even two years made a lot of difference in highschool.

So, that’s the short and barely thrilling story of how he ended up drunk and very, very nauseous, climbing up the stairs. 

The bathrooms on the first floor were all occupied, so his last chance was the one on the floor above.

He was never as happy to see a bathroom door as he was now. He practically ran towards it, opening it in one swift motion. He only hoped he wouldn’t find someone going at it right there, but he was lucky. The lights were off and the toilet was right there. 

Though the place did smell a little funny, but he waved it off.

When Warren finished his… um, business, he leaned over the sink and started washing out his mouth, mentally promising to himself that he would never touch vodka again in his life, when he heard a quiet sigh.

It freaked him out so badly he immediately turned around.

The bathroom was dark. And quiet.

But wait, he could now make out a silhouette lying in the bath tub. 

,Oh fuck', Warren thought. Is it dead?

„Next time eat something beforehand, Jeff Bezos Junior.“ the voice said, sounding oddly tired yet amused for some reason.

Warren turned on the light and saw a guy he didn’t really know that well, half-lying in the tub with a joint in their hand. Oh, so that was the smell. They must’ve been high as fuck.

When he recognized their face, all fright went away. At least a little.

Also, it was not really a guy. 

„Bernie Chomsky?“ he asked.

It was so weird to see them like that. Chomsky, one of the smartest kids in school, a ChEmiSt ProDiGy (whose talent seemed to come in handy when processing THC, apparently). Chomsky, who once bodyslammed a cop during a protest. Rumor had it they hid weed in their locker and once got into a fight with some „racial realists“ form their school.

„You can call me Berni- oh wait, you just called me that. Nice.“ Bernie spoke, letting out a bit of smoke and leaning back against the blue tiles. Then, they patted onto the surface next to them in an inviting gesture.

„Wanna join?“

Warren just stood there, kinda startled. To be fair, you would do the same if your stare-from-afar crush just invited you to a pot session.

„Erm, sure.“ Warren replied cautiously, walking up to the tub. Bernie shifted a bit, so the other could also sit there, but still - it was a bit awkward, trying to fold his lanky legs while Bernie just smiled. 

Warren used to be mad at his parents for having such small bath tubs, but now he wasn‘t exactly complaining, with his side pressed against Bernie. His companion was warm and smelled a bit like weed and campfire, but not in a bad way. 

When Bernie closed their eyes again, leaning back to enjoy whatever effect the weed had, Warren got a chance to look more closely at their dark curls peeking from their hood, at the smooth skin tanned from being outside a lot (unlike Warren), at their peaceful smile. He never noticed the other had freckles. 

Then Bernie opened their eyes again, and before the awkwardness could hit, Warren also noticed they were green and framed by long lashes and-Oops.

The dark-haired student seemed to find an underlying message in Warren’s stare, eyes moving to the joint in their hand and back. They thought for a second, before bringing it to their lips.

„I would offer you some, but you didn’t look all that great before.“ they smiled apologetically. „And I feel like you‘re too young to ruin your mind like this.“ they laughed a bit bitterly.

„Actually, I’m just a year younger than you.“

„My feelings don’t care about your facts.“ Bernie smirked before erupting in laughter, and Warren couldn’t even be mad.

They sat there in silence. Bernie must’ve deemed it calming, but Warren was just getting more and more nervous each passing second. ,What if I look boring now? Am I annoying the-'

„Which Hogwarts house do you think Jesus would be in?“ Bernie interrupted his thoughts.

„Um, Griffindor? Isn’t that the „good“ house?“

Bernie sighed in fake dissapointment, turning to warren, their faces now pretty close.

„Jesus was a Middle-Eastern man, do you really think he would look good in red?“

„Well, that’s what he is usually portrayed in.“

„Holy shit you’re right!“ Bernie wheezed. Warren had never seen them laugh so much, although it could have just been the weed, it made him happy.

It has been hours since Warren came in, and they were both still in that tub, talking about all sorts of nonsense. At this precise moment, Bernie was going through the entire female part of the Democrtaic party, playing smash or pass.

„Let’s see… Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.“

„Uhm... That one might be a smash.“

„Yeah, definitely smash.“ Bernie agreed. „Alright, let’s turn this around a little. Stalin.“

what.

„Pass, obviously.“ Warren said maybe too quickly, almost letting the good old closeted phrase „I’m not gay“ past his lips before realising it may not be the most tactical step right now. That was the first man Bernie mentioned, were they trying to find out… no, he was just seeing hints where there were none.

„What do you mean, „obviously“? The moustache doesn’t do it for you?“ Bernie poked fun at the other, grinning widely. „Alright, what about Jughashvili?“

„Never heard of him.“

„Really? He looks a little like Zayn Malik, hold on, I’ll pull him up.“ they reached for their phone. Then, Bernie showed him a photo of some guy with stubble and his hair combed back. 

Warren breathed deeply, he had never told anyone he liked guys.

„Um, maybe.“ he said, quietly.

To his horror, Bernie started laughing maniacally. But before Warren could panic even more, they wheezed:

„That’s Stalin!“

wait what.

„That‘s Stalin when he was like, twenty three? Told you it was the moustache.“ Bernie smirked, patting Warren on the back when they noticed his nervous smile. „Both are a pass for me, he was a statist. But young Che Guevara could get it…“

It must’ve been well past noon when Warren woke up, feeling as if his head was to explode. His entire body was sore from falling asleep in the bath tub, it took him a few moments to actually turn his head and get rid of the cramps in his neck. His feet were freezing, so were his legs and his hands, but his torso not, for some reason. 

Then he looked down, only to find out he had Bernie’s hoodie wrapped around him. It wasn’t on, it was just covering him, so someone must’ve put it on him while he was asleep. Or maybe even when he was awake, because he didn’t quite remember everything that happened last night.

Suddenly, he wasn’t so cold anymore. There was heat not only in his chest, but mainly in his face. He looked around, as if there could be anyone else in the room, and then slowly buried his face in the fabric. It smeled so nice, like weed and campfire. He smiled, fingers digging into the folds of the green clothing. 

Not only did he talk to Bernie Chomsky last night, but returning the hoodie was an excuse to do so again.


End file.
